Читать книгу The Bobbsey Twins and Baby May - Lilian Garis - Страница 5

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Bert Bobbsey did not go back to bed right away. Instead, he remained in the upper hall, listening.

“Did you hear that, Mother?” he asked, in a low voice.

“You mean that noise at the back door?”

“Yes. I wonder—”

Nan came tiptoeing out of her room.

“What is it?” she whispered. “What is the bell ringing for, and—”

“Hush!” cautioned Bert.

Then their fears came to a sudden end, for the voice of Mr. Bobbsey was heard in the kitchen asking:

“Where are you, Mary? I forgot my front-door key, and came in the back way.”

“I didn’t know the back door was open,” remarked Mrs. Bobbsey, while Bert, no longer worried, said to Nan:

“It’s all right. It’s dad. I’m going back to bed.”

“Oh,” said Nan. “All right!”

The two older Bobbsey twins went to their rooms. Flossie and Freddie had gone back to their beds and were now slumbering peacefully, lulled by the patter of rain drops.

“How did you get in the back door if it was locked?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey of her husband, as he took off his dripping rubber coat.

“I always leave an extra back-door key out over the side window ledge,” he answered, “so if I forget my latch key I can get in. That’s what I did to-night. But what were you doing in the front hall?” he asked.

“The front doorbell rang,” his wife replied. “Was it you ringing it?” she went on quickly.

“I ring the front doorbell? No,” Mr. Bobbsey answered. “I thought you might be asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you. So when I felt in my pocket and found I hadn’t my key—on account of changing my wet trousers for dry ones before supper—I just went to the back door and let myself in.”

“It’s very strange,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, listening to make sure that none of the twins was stirring upstairs.

“What is strange?”

“The way the front doorbell rang. Twice! And each time I looked out I saw no one. If you didn’t ring it, who did?”

“Perhaps you heard something rattling because of the heavy thunder,” suggested Mr. Bobbsey. “The knives and forks in the pantry, maybe.”

“No, it was the bell,” his wife insisted. “The children heard it upstairs and came out in their nighties.”

“Um!” mused Mr. Bobbsey. “I’ll take a look out myself. It couldn’t be any boys playing pranks on a night like this, could it?”

“Hardly, I should think,” his wife said. “But the bell certainly rang.”

Mr. Bobbsey looked through the glass of the door—he did not open it because the rain would have blown in—but he came out of the hall, as his wife had done, without having seen any one.

“No one there,” he said.

“Could the lightning have made the bell ring? You know it’s an electric bell,” suggested Mrs. Bobbsey. “Bert said it might do it.”

“Perhaps,” admitted her husband. “I’ll take a look at the bell in the morning. It may be that it is so sensitive that the least jar of thunder will make it ring.”

“Did you save the lumber?” his wife asked.

“All but a few planks that got away from us. The river and lake are very high. We’ve had a lot of rain this spring. Now I think I’ll eat something and go to bed. Looks as if the rain would keep up into May.”

“That’s right,” agreed the twins’ mother. “To-morrow is the first of May, isn’t it?”

Her husband nodded as he sat down to a lunch she made ready for him.

It was still raining when Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey went to bed. But it stopped some time during the night, and when the Bobbsey twins awakened in the morning the sun was shining bright and warm.

“Hurray!” cried Bert, as he looked from his window. “It’s cleared off!”

“And there’s a big lake in the back lot!” shouted Freddie. “I can see it from my window.”

“We’ll sail boats there after school,” decided Bert, as he began to dress.

“Maybe we can make a raft and ride on it,” proposed Freddie.

“May I have a ride?” begged Flossie. “You wouldn’t let me ride on the elevated railroad. Will you let me ride on the raft?”

“It isn’t made yet!” laughed Bert. “We’ll see about it after school.”

“It’s going to be a lovely day after the rain,” said Nan, as she went downstairs.

“Come, children, get your breakfast and be ready for school,” called Mrs. Bobbsey. “I guess you won’t need to take umbrellas to-day,” she added, with a laugh. “I never saw the sun so bright.”

“This will soon dry up the puddles,” observed Mr. Bobbsey.

“I hope it doesn’t dry ’em all up,” ventured Bert. “We want to have some fun in the back lots.” Near the Bobbsey home were vacant lots that sometimes filled with rain water and became miniature lakes.

As Nan sat down to breakfast she suddenly looked up and exclaimed:

“Hark!”

“What’s the matter?” mumbled Bert, his mouth half full of bread. “Do you think it’s thundering again?”

“No! But I thought I heard a cat crying,” answered Nan. “Listen!”

They all kept quiet.

Then, faintly, came a little wailing cry.

“Oh, it’s a kittie!” exclaimed Flossie. “It’s a kittie on the back steps! I’m going to get it!”

She began to get down from her chair.

“That cry came from the front door,” said Bert.

“I think so,” agreed his father.

“It does sound like a cat,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Perhaps some one’s pet wandered away in the storm last night. But I don’t believe it rang the doorbell,” she added, with a faint smile.

“No, that was the lightning,” insisted Bert.

Nan had hurried to the front of the house. They heard her open the door, and the next moment she uttered a startled cry—almost a cry of alarm.

“What is it?” called Mrs. Bobbsey. “What is it, Nan?”

“Oh, Mother, come quick!” exclaimed Nan. “There’s a basket here! A basket—and it has—it has a baby in it! Oh, a little baby!”

The other Bobbsey twins hurried to the front door, followed by their father and mother. They saw Nan bending over a large, square, market basket that rested in the shelter of the doorway, off to one side.

Nan had folded back the heavy cloth cover of the basket. And there, nestled in a warm blanket and looking up at the Bobbseys, was a dear, sweet, cute, little baby, about a year old. It had blue eyes, golden curls, and as it kicked its tiny feet and moved its tiny hands it smiled up at the faces bending over it.

“Oh, my goodness! A baby! A darling baby!” gasped Mrs. Bobbsey.

“Whose is it?” asked Mr. Bobbsey. “Some one must have lost it!”

“They don’t lose babies!” declared his wife. “It was left here!”

“Left here! On purpose, do you mean?” cried her husband.

Mrs. Bobbsey nodded her head solemnly. Nan had stooped over and was lifting the tiny creature from its nest in the basket.

“Oh, Mother! may we keep it?” begged Flossie.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” demanded Freddie. “If it’s a boy, keep it!”

“Bring it in, Nan,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “The poor little dear! It must be almost perished with the cold—and hungry, too! Tell Dinah to warm some milk. Oh, what a darling child!”

She leaned over and kissed the soft, roselike cheek as the baby nestled in the warm blankets on Nan’s arm.

“Hum! A baby! I thought it was going to be a cat!” murmured Bert, as he picked up the basket. “Say!” he cried suddenly. “Look here! I know this basket!”

“You do?” exclaimed his father, with much interest.

“Yes. Look, Nan! It’s the basket the queer old lady with the green umbrella was carrying in the storm yesterday afternoon.”

“So it is,” agreed Nan. “Oh, Mother! what does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” was the answer, “except that it seems to mean some one has abandoned this baby. Oh, it’s so sweet—a regular doll! Dinah, hurry with that warm milk!”

“Yes’m! Ah’s a hurryin, as fast as Ah kin! Oh, fo’ de landest sakes! A honey lamb baby! Oh, mah goodness! who done left it yeah?”

“That’s what we don’t know, Dinah. Nan found it on the steps.”

“I thought it was a kitten,” said Nan, as she gave the baby to her mother.

“Has it got a name?” asked Freddie.

“Of course not—at least, it probably has, but we don’t know it,” said his mother. “Oh, you sweet baby!” and she cuddled it to her breast.

“This must be looked into,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Take good care of that basket and everything in it. It’s an abandoned baby, all right. And are you sure this basket was the one the strange old lady had?”

“Sure,” declared Bert.

“And she had a green umbrella and a faded shawl,” added Nan.

“Hum! The police ought to be able to trace her through that description,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

“Are you going to have the baby arrested?” demanded Flossie. “I think that’s mean!” and she looked sharply at her father.

“Oh, no; of course not, my dear!” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Daddy means the police must try to find to whom the baby belongs. I can’t imagine how any mother could desert it, though. Oh, you little darling!” she murmured, as the baby smiled up at her. “It’s a dear little girl,” she added.

“Then I know a good name for her,” said Bert.

“What?” asked Nan.

“Baby May,” replied her brother. “Yesterday was the last of April. To-day is the first of May, so May will be a good name.”

“Yes,” returned Mrs. Bobbsey, “I should say it would. And Baby May you shall be called until we find out your real name. Now, Dinah, is that milk warm?”

“Yes’m, Ah’s comin’ wif it! Mah good stars, to t’ink ob a baby like dat ringin’ de bell in de middle ob de night! Mah lan’!”

“This baby didn’t ring the bell,” said Bert.

“Who did den?” demanded the fat, black cook. “Who did den, Ah axes yo’, Bert Bobbsey! Who did?”